He studies me for a long moment, eyes tracing over my face, the half-smile I can’t quite hide. Then he leans in, slow enough that I feel his breath before his lips.
The first kiss is light—just a graze at the corner of my mouth, as if he’s asking permission. When I don’t pull away, he tilts his head and presses another to the hollow of my throat, softer still. His stubble grazes my skin, and the warmth of his breath sends a small shiver racing up my spine.
“Cast,” I whisper, not really in protest.
“Hmm?” His lips find the curve just beneath my jaw, a kiss that feels like both apology and promise.
“Kids,” I manage. “They’ll be?—”
“Downstairs,” he murmurs against my skin. “Occupied.”
I laugh quietly, the sound catching in my throat. He kisses the spot where it trembles. My hand slides up into his hair without thinking, fingers curling at the back of his neck.
Vincent’s voice breaks the spell, low and amused. “You two planning to make us late for Christmas?”
Cast lifts his head but doesn’t move far. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Vincent gives a quiet huff of a laugh and reaches over to brush his thumb along my cheek, his touch lighter than air. “He’s right, though,” he says softly. “Itisnice.”
But then Damien reappears with a tray of steaming mugs and saves us from the heaviness. “Two minutes are up,” he says, passing one to me, one to Vincent, one to Cast. “If we don’t go soon, they’ll open everything without us.”
Cast sighs, standing. “And here I thought Christmas was supposed to be restful.”
Vincent smirks faintly. “Only for the ones who don’t pay the credit card bill.”
I laugh and climb out of bed, pulling on my robe. “Come on, you have more than me to open up.”
“But that’s my favorite part of Christmas,” Vincent pouts, still sitting on the edge of the bed, pretending he isn’t smiling.
Cast tugs the blanket off him. “Move, Beaumont.”
Damien shakes his head, already halfway out the door. “If you two keep flirting, I’m drinking your coffee.”
“Damien, you drink my coffee I will dull all your skates for the next season,” Cast mutters, following him.
I tie my robe tighter and trail after them down the hall. The house smells like cinnamon and pine, faint coffee and something sweet from the kitchen. The quiet of the upstairs fades with every step—replaced by the muffled shrieks of our children trying to contain their excitement and failing miserably.
By the time we reach the stairs, the chaos has already begun.
Theo is knee-deep in wrapping paper, tearing through a box while Elise cheers beside him. Rose has taken it upon herself to hand out presents, her hair a wild halo of bedhead and enthusiasm. Penny’s perched on the couch, feet kicking, holding Scooter’s paw like they’re sharing a secret. The dog’s tail thumps nonstop against the cushions.
“Look mommy! Look!” Elise squeals when she spots us, waving a stuffed bunny in the air.
“You didn’t wait for us?” I say, smiling as I step down into the living room.
“We waitedfiveminutes,” Theo insists, his face smeared with chocolate. “That’s forever.”
Damien grins, bending to ruffle his hair. “Fair point.”
I roll my eyes as I slide onto the couch, ruffling Penny’s hair as I move past. Cast drops onto the couch beside me, coffee in hand. “That’s how you know they’re ours.”
Vincent crouches near the tree and pulls out another wrapped box. “This one’s for you, Penny.”
She gasps, hands flying to her mouth. “For me?”
“Mm-hm.” He passes it to her carefully, as if it’s made of glass.
She tears it open and finds a small stuffed reindeer with a crooked red bow. Her entire face lights up. “He’s perfect.”
